Measured in Irreverence
by Sparkle Itamashii
Summary: "You've been really mouthy all day," he commented mildly before pressing a kiss to Stiles' collarbone, slow and warm. (Sciles)


Title: Measured in Irreverence

Author: Sparkle Itamashii

* * *

Measured in Irreverence

* * *

When Stiles' knees hit the back of the bed he grinned, letting himself topple backwards onto the mussed up covers. For a heartbeat, Scott stood knee-to-knee with him, his feet on either side of Stiles', then he was crawling up, straddling him. Stiles didn't need to be a werewolf to hear the tremble in Scott's breath that said he was trying to keep control, and the knowledge sent a flash of hot thrill through him. It would never get old, knowing how quickly and thoroughly he could rile up Scott.

He slithered back on the bed, under the cage Scott had made of his arms and legs, and met Scott's burning red gaze. He smiled. "Your alpha's showing."

Scott shivered a little at the tone, at the words. "Shut up," he murmured, not sure if it was a command or affection. "It's so much... harder to keep it in check."

Stiles' smile turned slinky and feral, his eyes flashing from amber-brown to true gold. "I'll bet it's _harder_," he teased. At Scott's dry look, he tipped his head, jaw shifting to expose the long column of his neck to his alpha.

Helpless to the subservient entreaty, Scott stroked a palm down Stiles' side over his clothes, fingers burrowing under his shirt, seeking skin. Stiles hummed long and low when Scott's lips pressed against the pulse in his throat. When Scott smoothed his hand over Stiles' ribs he arched, allowing Scott to pull his shirt up. He lifted his shoulders, wriggling as Scott stripped him of the constrictive garment, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.

Scott spread his fingers over the faint tattoos on Stiles' chest. The skin was covered in patterns, runes and sigils that meant things, more things than Scott had learned about them. In the center, over Stiles' sternum, Scott laid his palm over the blank space. Not long ago, there had been a rune there as well, an angry red scar carved into his skin over the course of weeks. It was the only rune Stiles had put there himself, the only rune that had to be cut into the flesh to bind it to Stiles like a second soul. All of his deep casting had found its power in that rune.

It had healed the night Scott sunk his teeth into Stiles' wrist three days ago.

Though they were fading as well, would fade entirely over the next few days, some of the other runes still worked. These Scott traced with a feather-soft touch, watching them light up in the wake of his finger. Stiles watched his path, skin shivering under the near-reverent touches, the blue glow reflecting in his eyes. Looking up as his fingers drew away from the rune 'truth,' Scott met Stiles' gaze.

"You've been really mouthy all day," he commented mildly before pressing a kiss to Stiles' collarbone, slow and warm.

A strained noise escaped Stiles as he felt the brush of teeth. He threaded his fingers into Scott's mop of hair, curling them, not quite pulling. "I'm mouthy every day," he replied, all breath.

Scott huffed a chuckle, sucked a mark into Stiles' shoulder and watched it fade in the next moment. When his crimson eyes tracked back up, it was to find Stiles watching him with the ghost of a smile on his lips. "_Really_ mouthy, smart-ass."

Grinning, Stiles raised his eyebrows in mock-surprise. "Yeah?" he asked, almost a challenge, his reward a gravelly noise from Scott. "Aren't you supposed to be an alpha now? Aren't there rules about mouthing off to your alpha?"

On top of him, Scott shifted, and Stiles could feel the effect the idea had on Scott. He jerked his hips up just enough and Scott sucked in a breath before pressing a hand to Stiles' hip to keep him still. "Yeah," he choked out, sitting back on Stiles' hips so that he could use his other hand. "Yeah," he repeated, and before Stiles could even think to stop him, Scott had grabbed his wrist and started tracing a tattoo on his forearm.

The blue glow lit the space between them where Scott traced, shifting into the red spectrum as Scott closed the rune. Stiles knew which one it was, could have stopped him if he chose, but he let Scott draw it off his skin, laid pliant to his movements as Scott pinned his hands over his head. He felt it when the binding rune laid against his skin, felt it like a tingle the moment it took, like a static jolt, and his hips bucked minutely against his will. Even with his eyes closed, he knew the smile on Scott's lips.

Scott groaned and sat back on Stiles' hips again. He wriggled backward enough that he could reach the button on Stiles' jeans, clever fingers working swiftly. When he ran his hands down Stiles' thighs, Stiles lifted his hips from the bed, let Scott tug the jeans down, peel them off to join his shirt someplace that mattered less than Scott's hands on his bare skin. He was watching raptly, hungrily tracking every motion Scott made with enough coherency to be annoying.

"You know," Scott said, almost idly, palms running up the insides of Stiles' thighs. "It's been three days since I turned you."

Stiles knew. Oh, how he knew, how he could count the hours, the minutes, since Scott had kissed the soft, thin skin of his wrist the moment before sinking his long teeth almost delicately into the flesh. It had hurt, the whole process had hurt, but it was over; the full moon had been the same night, and Scott had held him in thrall through it all. There was nothing Stiles was _more_ aware of than the moment Scott had gotten under his skin, become something far more than a friend or lover. Scott was _Alpha_, and the truth of it invaded every newly enhanced sense Stiles possessed.

"Yes," he agreed, voice shaking just a little with the effort it took not to keen as Scott stroked. He wanted to touch, to slide his hands up the ridges of Scott's ribs under his shirt, see him laid bare... but Scott had bound him to his bed with his own fading runes and the most he could manage was to press back into every touch Scott granted.

"And you haven't once named me your alpha," Scott continued, palms skimming up over Stiles' hips, to his waist, as Scott leaned forward. "Am I?" he asked, breath puffing warm into the crook of Stiles' neck.

"Yes," Stiles told him without hesitation, eyes shifting brilliantly gold as he said it. They didn't change back this time.

Scott did a poor job containing his answering growl. "You're _my_ beta?" he asked.

Stiles hummed agreement, ground upward against Scott. "Your beta, yes," he agreed. "C'mon, Scott."

"You're not very good at submission," Scott chuckled into his shoulder before nipping just hard enough to elicit a gasp.

An objection roughed the back of Stiles' throat at the notion that there was something he was not good at. "Not good at- what more do you want?" he asked, eyes shuttering closed as Scott mouthed skin down his chest.

When his mouth closed over Stiles' nipple, Stiles arched up with a completely undignified noise, not even caring. Scott grinned at the way Stiles threw his head back, exposing his throat so naturally, so easily. "I want you to _beg_," he said, one hand sliding down the length of Stiles' torso, rubbing the heel of his palm over Stiles' cock.

"Oh my god," Stiles groaned, pressing up into the touch. Scott just followed the motion, not letting him increase the pressure, not letting him gain any friction. Stiles keened, loud and high.

Scott pressed a kiss to the jut of his hip bone, dragged both hands down Stiles' thighs before curling his fingers under the waistband of the white briefs. Stiles let him remove those too, a low, wanton noise dragging out of him as Scott began to slowly, methodically touch everywhere but where he wanted. Counting his ribs, tracing the cut of his hip, caressing over his lean stomach and down the thin trail of hair at his navel. Fingers walking the length of his thighs down and then up again, so close Stiles couldn't help the twitch of his hips toward him.

Everything, all of it, accented by the kisses Scott pressed everywhere, the blood marks Scott drew to the surface of his skin, claiming him, yet watching them fade a moment later. It wasn't long before Stiles' skin was flushed with desire, his coming in breath short, sharp pants.

"Scott, please..." he managed, the soft gasp nearly incoherent.

"Please what?" Scott asked, breath hot against the side of his knee.

"You know fucking what," Stiles bit out when Scott's teeth grazed the sensitive skin. Stiles cut off a surprised exclamation when Scott licked a hot stripe along the back of his knee.

"Sorry, I thought I just heard you getting mouthy again," Scott told him, and Stiles could feel his smile.

"Let me out of the binding and I'll show you what mouthing off looks like," Stiles suggested, canting his hips up when Scott shifted his attention closer to where Stiles wanted it.

Scott hummed a note of disagreement, and then his lips were brushing feather-soft against the nerves on the underside of Stiles' cock and Stiles really didn't have anything left for a coherent remark. It was only Scott's firm hand on him that kept him from bucking up into the heat of Scott's mouth. A raw noise clawed its way from his throat, thin and lusty, and the feel of Scott's chuckle sent a shock through him.

"D-Do that again," he managed, and Scott smirked. "_Please._"

Obliging, Scott slid his lips over the head of Stiles' cock, tongue curling just right. The barest touch of teeth ghosted over sensitive skin a heartbeat before he hummed long and low, and Stiles strangled his shout in favor of Scott's name. Scott huffed softly and Stiles _felt_ his smile the moment before Scott took him in completely.

It was not a race, never a race for them, and Scott took his time even more so now. He hadn't touched Stiles in days, not since the night he'd turned him, and he could tell that Stiles hadn't touched himself since turning either. It was heady knowledge, and Scott was careful with it, making sure to back off when Stiles got too close, making it _last_. Stiles keened, high and frustrated every time, until he was practically sobbing with it, until his words had abandoned him and his instinct to be mouthy had retreated to the farthest corner of his mind.

Then - and _only_ then - did Scott relent, ease him into it, until he was shaking, shuddering through his release. The broken, delicious noises wrested from deep in Stiles' chest were more than rewarding, had Scott humming soft satisfaction as he stroked Stiles through it. Though Stiles didn't hear a word of it, Scott murmured pleased words at him until he had come down enough to focus, and then he reached up, traced a rune which released Stiles' hands from the binding.

Stiles' hands were immediately upon him, but Scott gentled the touch with little effort. "But-" Stiles protested.

"Later," Scott promised. His mom was overnight at the hospital. There was more than enough time for them to cool off, for Scott to enjoy the scent of _beta_ that had invaded his entire room. _His_ beta, sated and lax against him. It was intoxicating, to say the least. His arms tightened just a little around Stiles.

Smiling as if he could read Scott's mind, Stiles relaxed and pulled Scott up to the pillows, let him curl up against him so he could put an ear to Stiles' chest. Stiles carded his fingers through Scott's messy brown hair, heartbeat still fluttering in his ears, pulsing in his fingertips. The scent of _alpha_ and _home_ and _right_ wreathed thickly around them and Stiles thought he would do anything to keep this forever.

"Is it like this for all alphas?" Stiles asked idly, mind-to-mouth filter offline in the wake of orgasm. The questions earned him a sidelong glance from Scott. He tried to dredge up the focus to say what he wanted. "Your scent, it's just... it's hard to ignore. It's hard not to do whatever you tell me. Is it... always like that?"

Eyes closing, brow furrowing, Scott considered the question. "Yeah, I guess it was."

A low hum escaped Stiles as he accepted that. "I'm glad I don't have to fight it." Then he looked down, drew his palm along Scott's jaw in a way that begged attention. When Scott's brown eyes slid lazily open, Stiles tipped his head just slightly. "You had to fight it, though. With Derek."

"Yeah," Scott agreed, making a little face. "And the alpha pack, until I killed one."

Stiles somehow managed to make his snort sound impressed. "How? I mean maybe I'm just new to it, but it's sort of overwhelming, how much you smell like... well, top dog. So...?"

Scott just smiled, snuggling his head against Stiles' chest and closing his eyes once more. "You," he said, no hint of doubt at all. "Because no matter what they smelled like, I could always smell you, too."


End file.
